


Basics

by Clair de Lune (clair_de_lune)



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Gift Fic, Incest, M/M, Season/Series 01, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:18:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clair_de_lune/pseuds/Clair%20de%20Lune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don’t have the time for anything but the basics, no time for niceties, these days. (Season 1)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Basics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nrrrdy-grrrl](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nrrrdy-grrrl).



> I asked for prompts and nrrrdy-grrrl suggested jail sex and ‘the dirtiest Michael/Lincoln [I’ve] ever written’. Not sure about the ‘dirtiest’ part but this is definitely NSFW.

It’s always hard and fast, these days; it has to be. They don’t have the time for anything but the basics, no time for niceties or for the odd dance they sometimes used to dance.

So, basics.

—

Michael on his knees in the PI’s showers.

There’s no door, and Abruzzi, Sucre and T-Bag are so close, right on the other side of the thin wall that Lincoln can hear Bagwell’s smooth voice whispering provocations and dirty innuendos; until Abruzzi shuts him up.

The whole situation ratchets up Lincoln faster than he’d care for. It takes seconds for him to spill his wad down Michael’s throat. It’s been too long since anyone did this for him. With the risk of what they’re doing added to the way Michael looks – shiny blue eyes trained up on Lincoln’s face, shiny plump lips tightly wrapped around Lincoln’s cock – Lincoln thinks that holding off a few seconds is no small feat anyway.

—

Up against the wall in the guards’ break room.

Michael smirks because T-Bag of all people is outside, watching the door for them. The man has no idea – _no_ idea – what’s going on in there. Michael is not sure it’s something to brag about, out-perving Bagwell, but Lincoln is looking him in the eye while mercilessly pushing one rough finger coated only with a sheen of saliva between his buttocks, and Michael forgets about T-Bag; forgets about everything but Lincoln and so-wrong-but-who-gives-a-fuck pleasure. He takes both his and Lincoln’s cocks in his fist and jerks them off, forceful and precise, in a way he knows will get them both off efficiently. He bites a first time into Lincoln’s shoulder when he feels the hot spurt of his brother’s release on his fingers, and a second time when he comes too. He wipes his hand on Lincoln’s lower belly and smirks again at the dismissive growl the gesture gets him.

—

On all fours in the SHU.

Lincoln doesn’t know how Michael got the permission to visit him; he doesn’t care. He kneels behind Michael, exposes him – the tattooed skin morphs back into unadulterated creamy white, here – and stares at the small pink-brown ring of muscles that is quickly clenching and unclenching in anticipation. Michael throws a glance over his shoulder and eagerly cants his hips, ass pushed up in the air and offered. Lincoln grins, leans down and licks; long and luscious sweeps of tongue that wrench gurgling sounds out of Michael’s throat. Lincoln works him faster, deeper, deeper, the pleas and half-sobs of need music to his ears.

When he straightens up and breathes, he only has to wait a couple of seconds, perfectly still. Michael curses him and reaches back with an unsteady hand to coax him in. One strong thrust, spit hardly enough to ease his way, and he’s sheathed, Michael breached, stretched and clenching around him. Lincoln watches himself slide in and out of the coiled body, watches how Michael fucks back onto him, desperate and wanton, neither of them minding the ache. It burns so good. It burns so bright just to focus on the most primal aspect of the sex. He thinks in less than fragments of sentences, mere mishmash of words – hard cock in tight hole, shooting pain, blinding pleasure, sweat, skin slapping against skin, grunts...

He moves and keeps moving even after they have come, even though he’s fucking his own come in and out of Michael and Michael is pleading with him to stop. Michael whispers “Too much, Linc,” and Lincoln keeps moving because they both know that it’s not true. Never enough.

Basics. Fuck sweet declarations and candlelight, they prove nothing. Lincoln can’t help thinking it takes some crazy, deep-running love, to do it that way, want it that way, relish it that way. He rolls Michael onto his back, afterwards, and kisses him with the same determination and hunger with which he just fucked him.

—

Behind a small shed in the forest, a couple of hours after they escaped from Fox River.

There’s no ambiguity about what Lincoln’s tongue pushing past Michael’s lips and thrusting into his mouth is mimicking. Michael opens up and lets Lincoln take his mouth like the due that it is – Linc already owns every single part of his mind, body and soul, anyway. He comes in his pants, sharp and breath-taking, just from the kiss, the freedom, and Lincoln’s so very alive body crushing him.

Basics.

-Fin-


End file.
